Apocalypse When?
by The Cypress Scholar
Summary: Nuclear war ravages the world, leaving only Mineral Town left. Jack wants to rule the town. With Cliff, a downtrodden servant, Popuri, a giggling bimbo and May, an eight year old supervillain, what could go wrong? Everything!
1. Nuclear War

Disclaimer: I don't own anything herein. Natsume and others own the game and characters and Kim Jong-il owns the North Korean Army. Kofi Annan might own the UN, but I'm not too sure. Anyway, I own nothing. Please R & R.

Author's Notes: Well, after a MAJOR revamp, this story opens for a third time. The plot premise is that Jack Breezy is a farmer who believes that it is his destiny to rule the world. Unfortunately, his sidekicks, Cliff and Popuri, usually hinder, rather than help, his evil plans. But when a trivial fight between U.N delegates descends into worldwide annihilation, Jack finally has the opportunity to achieve his dream. Will he succeed, or will he be doomed to his miserable failures again? WATCH as Jack struggles through trial after trial! GASP as Harvest Elves become drug lords! CHEER as Carter battles to the death using lightsabers with an evangelist! POINT as you watch a terrorist live in someone's basement! BURP as you eat your way through the cinema buffet!

This is APOCALYPSE WHEN?

**Apocalypse When?**

_Jack, a young man from the city, came back to run his grandpa's farm one year ago. He was a success, since his genius enabled his farm to grow astoundingly quickly. He had two henchmen, Cliff and Popuri who did his bidding. But even these successes did not placate Jack Breezy. He had a desire to rule the world. But it was only a dream, right? So life went on. And there it might have ended, if it hadn't been for those ugly, gold-digging, intern-molesting, gum-chewing, baby-kissing reptiles known as politicians._

_The United Nations had a choice. They could use their surplus budget to give aid to Africa or have a large Christmas party with lots of mud wrestling and free beer._

_They chose the party._

_Needless to say, the party was a complete failure. Very few of the countries got on; the United States wasn't talking to Germany because of "What They Said About Our Auntie Mildred at the G8 Summit; the UK wasn't talking to Spain because of "That Fight Last New Year's Eve About Gibraltar"; North Korea pantsed South Korea, before being wedgied by China; and no-one was talking to Canada because they forgot the turkey._

_Needless to say, this descended into a fight, at first with custard pies, which ended with all the delegates declaring war on each other. The fight might have been forgotten if it hadn't spilled out onto the streets, onto boats and planes and spread across the globe._

_The world's largest, longest and most prolific custard pie fight ended in a nuclear holocaust, thanks to the control panels in several nuclear silos being damaged by custard. Nuclear war devastated the earth, leaving very few areas intact._

_One of these areas was the island of Mineral Town._

_And thus it all began..._

_Here inside, you will find a Napoleonic farmer, a bubbly pink-haired girl, a loyal, snivelling vagabond, a sword-wielding eight-year-old, a Friends-loving terrorist, the world's worst bomber pilot, an indestructible news reporter and a lot of sex, death, blood and beer (though thankfully not all at the same time)._

Chapter 1: Nuclear War

"And in one hour," blared the TV reporter happily, "It's everyone's favourite show..."

"Not mine," muttered Jack Breezy, anticipating the horror ahead.

"_The Song Hour!_" shouted the TV reporter excitedly.

"For god's sake!" screamed Jack to no-one in particular, "On the night when the world ends, two _damn stupid hippies are playing bloody awful songs and singing just as badly!_ I can't stand it! I need alcohol and lots of it!"

He paused in the middle of this rant and remembered that Pastor Carter owed him a favour. Perhaps now was the time for it to be repaid.

Smiling evilly, Jack picked up the phone and rang Carter. When he answered it, Jack said, "Carter, it's Jack and its time to repay that favour. I want you to get out your little secret and aim it at these co-ordinates..."

After giving the co-ordinates and being assured that he would be successful, Jack put the phone down and grabbed his coat. He decided he would go out and watch this amusing spectacle as it unfolded.

Jack Breezy was your average farmer. Well, actually he wasn't, as not every farmer wants to take over the world. But he did keep cows, like many farmers do. But not all farmers have cows with lasers attached to their heads, so, no, he wasn't really your average farmer.

A blast of cold air greeted him as he left the warmth of his home. Up in the night sky he could see trailing lights which were obviously nukes on their way to their targets. Jack sighed contentedly and lit his pipe. Lots of people were dying and none of them were him. It was good to be alive. The joy was redoubled by the fact that he was alone. Perhaps he could have an intelligent conversation for once.

"Heeeeeey Jack!" squealed a very bubbly voice.

Jack groaned and turned around, "Hello Popuri," he said half-heartedly.

He didn't _dislike_ Popuri as such; on the contrary, she was very good in helping him carry out his plans (good as in that she wasn't responsible for _all_ of his miserable failures) and she was attractive in a strange sort of way. Jack just disliked women in general, they were too emotional, rarely ambitious and seemed to have an obsession with binge drinking; especially Karen.

"Whatcha doin'?" asked Popuri, dancing around him and smiling in a sickening manner.

"I'm watching the nukes," replied Jack, trying to maintain a friendly tone, "You do know what nukes are, don't you?"

"Yeah," replied Popuri, "They're naked people!"

Jack tried to adjust to Popuri's mindscape.

"_Nukes_ Popuri," he sighed, "not _nudes._"

"Oh," she replied. After a moment's thought, she asked, "Do you want to go to the beach with me and watch them?"

"Yeah sure, why not?" replied Jack in a surprising show of generosity. The two set off together.

Before they had gone halfway down the field Popuri spotted a flash heading directly for them. She pointed and screamed in alarm, "Jack!"

Jack remained calm, sucking on his pipe, before saying, "Step back a bit," and pulling her back with him.

They watched as the flash got closer and closer and began to hear a whooshing noise as it approached. After about a minute, they saw it was a missile which hit the ground at a slight angle and slowly came to a halt just beside them. On the peculiar black missile was a little flag, which Jack recognized as the flag of North Korea, and a Korean soldier clinging on for dear life. He looked up and saw the pair.

"Ah, good evening comrade," greeted Jack casually, as though North Korean soldiers riding nuclear missiles and landing on his farm was a common occurrence.

"Good night comrade-san!" said the Korean, getting up and bowing low, "Which way...to America?"

"Ah," said Jack pleasantly shaking his hand, "You're not the first! But which part of America?"

"California, comrade-san!" replied the Korean breathlessly, "Ordered to... kill all of... Hollywood..."

"Good man!" said Jack, shaking his hand even harder, "I hate those rich bastards, flaunting their wealth, owning big houses, small waists and thinking that looking like a starved Ethiopian is fashionable. Make sure you get them all! Oh," he added as an afterthought, pointing, "America is that way."

"Thank you comrade-san!" replied the Korean gratefully, bowing again, "I bid you pleasant goodbye!"

Saying that, he hoisted the seven-foot missile onto his shoulder and walked off towards the harbour. Jack continued on his way, while Popuri was rooted to the spot in confusion. After a moment though, she regained her senses, ran after Jack and grabbed hold of him.

"Who was that?" she asked.

"A North Korean soldier strapped to a nuclear missile," explained Jack helpfully, pulling himself free and walking on with her.

"But why?"

"Because North Korean nukes are crap and only have a limited range," replied Jack, "So they strap those soldiers to them in case the missile fails and they have to carry it to its target."

Popuri shook her head, confused. Jack knew the strangest things.

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"Isn't it romantic?" said Popuri dreamily as a distant city was vaporized by one of the many falling missiles, "Isn't it gorgeous how the water reflects the mushroom cloud?"

"Nah," replied Jack, "I'd say boring. Once you've seen one metropolis vanish in an instant of fire, you've seen them all."

"Oh Jack, where's your romance?" complained Popuri, smiling..

"Dead and gone, along with my patience, compassion and respect for humanity!" growled Jack. He took out his miniature radio from his pocket and tuned in to the station he wanted to hear. To his horror, the Song Hour had already begun.

"Maaan," droned one of the hippy hosts, "Tonight sure ain't coooool, what with all the killiiiiiiiin' and stuff. So let's lighten the atmosphere and release some positive waaaaaaaaaves with these trippin' tracks..."

What was taking Carter so long? Surely by now he must have set it up. Unless of course he was doing something foul and ungodly that priests tend to do, like watch FOX.

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As a matter of fact, Pastor Carter was _not _watching FOX. He was in fact setting up the nuclear missile that had lain in the church basement for several years. Carter had always intended to fire it at Cuba after being given a "divine mission" by God to "kill those commie bastards". Carter had never doubted the word of his Lord, but even he was a bit confused that God had appeared to him in the form of a purple sheep that spoke with the voice of Barry White. It was probably some test of faith, or more likely due to the "incense". But he owed Jack a favour and so his

"Uncle Carter, why do we want to kill those people?" asked Stu innocently as she helped push the launcher out into the graveyard.

"Because they're god-damn hippies," replied the man of God, "And do you know why we should hate hippies, Stu?"

"Because they care about nature!" replied Stu excitedly.

"Good," smiled Carter, "And do you know what we do to people who care about nature?"

"Kill them!" shouted Stu happily.

"That's right," chuckled Carter, "It is our divine right to wipe out inferior species! That's the American way! Peace, freedom and democracy! Now help your Uncle Carter load the missile onto the launcher..."

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"Come on Popuri," said Jack, "Carter's obviously not going to do it."

"Are we going home then?" asked Popuri.

"No," replied Jack, pulling out his potato peeler, "We're going to force Carter to do it, unless he really wants to hit the high notes at the next Choir Festival."

They walked over to the church and found Carter and Stu had already set up the missile launcher and placed the missile inside. Carter looked up and saw Jack.

"Ah, Jack," he said brightly, "We're all set. It'll be launched whenever you like."

"Excellent," replied the farmer. He turned his radio on and listened. Shuddering, he recognized the sound of the Song Hour.

"Still playing," he muttered, "God I hate this show."

He sighed again and picked up his mobile phone. Dialling in the number for the Song Hour station, he grinned evilly. Finally, someone answered and the conversation could be heard on the radio in front of them.

"Yo dude," answered one of the hosts, "What's your tune maaaaaaaan?"

"Prepare to die you flea-ridden hippy!" shouted Jack in a tone of orgasmic triumph, "Because you've got a nuke coming your way!"

"Dude," said the host to his equally flea-ridden co-host, "Do we have any songs about nuclear waaaaaaar?"

"We sure do," replied Flea-Bitten Hippy II, "Here's a little number called "The Mutants Took Mah Daughter Away". Enjoy man..."

As the awful song began blaring out, Jack seethed with rage, only being consoled when Carter lit the fuse. At this, he jumped up and began dancing with glee. The holy weapon launched successfully and flew gracefully through the air, ready to dish out some red-hot, God-approved ass-kicking.

Until the rocket's engines failed and it crashed into the mountain peak causing a loud WHUMP sound, before hilariously exploding.

"Incredible," sighed Jack as he rang Carter. As the pastor picked it up, Jack bellowed down the line, "Carter! Where did you get that missile from?"

"Oh, er…didn't you know?" replied Carter uneasily, "Standard procedure for a newly ordained priest to be given one by the Vatican. New policy."

"I thought the Vatican promoted peace," said Jack, his eyes narrowing.

"Well you should see what the evangelists have!" retorted Carter, "They have lightsabers. This is an arms race Jack!"

"Well, why didn't it work then?" asked Jack.

"I don't know. Probably something to do with all the holy water they use on it. Damages the circuits."

Jack shook his head. It just wasn't his day. He watched the smoking mountain as half of it collapsed in rubble.

"Er," he began, "Isn't Mother's Hill a national monument?"

An uneasy silence.

"CHEESE IT!" Jack screamed. He grabbed Popuri and ran off, shouting behind him to Carter, "You're on your own sucker!" before he disappeared into the town.

"Uncle Carter," snivelled Stu, "We've blown up the mountain."

"Yes Stu," replied Carter gravely.

"Uncle Carter," whined the sticky child, "Will God be angry with us?"

The thought of the Lord's punishment shocked Carter into a state of fear. He turned and ran off towards his church screaming, "_Yes Stu! Run! He can't punish you if you can't see you! Hide!_"

"But Uncle Carter!" Stu shouted after him, "I thought you said God was omni-presumt, omni-pretenced, omni...everywhere?"

"No!" shouted Carter in the distance, "We made that up to stop people pissing in the font!"

So...that's it for the first chapter. Like I said before, the important thing is that you enjoy it, but I wouldn't mind a review if you generous people would be so kind tips hat. I'd really appreciate it and it might make my work better. Please be honest.


	2. The Morning After

I own nothing in this fic. Except for the Ivory Intestine Incinerator. But it's not real, which sucks...

Chapter 2: The Morning After

Jack woke up in a pool of beer, his head resting against the arm of the couch.

"Oh god..." he moaned, "What was I drinking last night? Tastes like dog urine." As he unstuck one bleary eye, he noticed to his horror that Howler was looking guiltily at him.

Some screaming and a full bottle of mouthwash later, Jack re-entered the living room and turned the TV on.

On the news channel was a scene of ruins, with a caption on the bottom reading, "GENEVA, SWITZERLAND". A reporter, obviously followed by a cameraman, was walking carefully through the ruins with his back to the camera. Eventually, he stopped outside a shop and turned around. Jack's heart leapt. It was Luckman, the intrepid reporter who had survived being eaten alive by cannibals, being blown up by terrorists and being tortured with a hilariously shaped vegetable by an insane South American dictator. Jack admired Luckman, but he wasn't going to let anyone find that out.

"Here, there is no life," said Luckman, "no danger, except for the chance of falling bits of building and not a single sound. Geneva, like most of Europe, is dead. Ironically, this is one of the safest assignments I've been on. Er, oops, the cameraman has just been crushed by falling bricks. Oh well."

Suddenly, a bunch of glowing green mutants jumped through the windows and ran straight for Luckman. He saw them, screamed and began to run.

"OH NO!" he shouted, "It's like that bloody midget wrestling match all over again!" The mutants caught him as he tripped over a twisted bar of steel and dragged him back to their lair.

"This is Rutherford Luckman!" screamed the daring reporter, "reporting to you from Geneva. Now back to you guys in the studioooooooooooo..."

"That's right Luckman," cheered Jack loudly, "Hand out some ass-whooping to them!" He switched the TV off, got up and went to the door to begin his daily chores.

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Cliff Cluzzlewick, loyal lackey and peasant extraordinaire, was sleeping soundly in his nest of hay and rancid sheep fumes. It had been kind of Mr. Jack to let him sleep there. The bed was always comfortable and the fodder was fairly delicious. He was eking out quite a nice living for someone who had never heard the term "minimum wage".

At that point, Jack tiptoed into the barn and wandered over to his sleeping friend. He leaned over into his ear and bellowed, "CLIIIFFF! WAKE UP! THERE'S WORK TO BE DONE CLLLLIIIIIIIIIIIFFF!!!!!!!"

"W-what?" mumbled Cliff as he sat up quickly and rubbed his eyes, "Yes Jack, I'll clean out the cowshed again."

"No, no," replied Jack dismissively, "I have a bigger assignment for you…"

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"So Cliff," said Jack, demonstrating what Cliff's job required, "You make a little hole in the ground, put the seed in and cover it up. Got it? And remember, we're a team! We'll both be doing difficult jobs, so keep your spirits up and work hard"

"Yes Jack!" replied Cliff, giving a half-baked salute he had seen on TV.

"Good," said Jack pleasantly. Pointing to a vast, flat field, he added, "Now do it ten thousand times. See you at lunch."

As Jack wandered off, Cliff called out to him, "Hey Jack, what will your task be?"

"Drinking beer," replied Jack, without looking back. Then, talking to himself, he said, "Now I'm off to the seediest bar in town. A place of debauchery and danger, where death lurks and evil sleeps. The most fearsome watering hole in the whole world!"

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"Welcome to Doug's!" beamed the large man named Doug, "Half price for little kiddies!" Jack involuntarily backed away. Doug's moustache gave him nightmares.

"Hello Doug," managed Jack, "I'll have a bottle of Ivory Intestine Incinerator please."

"Hey," said Doug suddenly, as the few brain cells he possessed made a valiant effort to recall something, "Are you of legal age?"

"Doug old boy," replied Jack, smiling as he pulled out a heavy bag of gold and placed it on the table with a loud bang, "I have 10,000G and nothing else to spend it on."

"Good enough for me!" Doug put a bottle of red liquid on the table. Jack picked it up and read the label with great satisfaction.

"Ah, Triple I," he said, stroking it lovingly, "Banned in one hundred and forty-nine countries and a death penalty offence for possession in sixty-seven. You're a good man Doug. Well, see you later."

Jack picked up the bottle and the bag of gold and headed for the exit.

"Hey!" shouted Doug, "Aren't you going to pay for it?"

"Hell no," replied Jack as he continued walking.

"Then it shall go on your tab," warned Doug, "and if you don't pay it, you'll be arrested."

"Doug," sighed Jack, turning around, "I don't have a tab, because you always forget because you're so stupid."

"Then I shall start one now!" announced Doug. He began searching for his notebook, "Now where's my notebook? It's not in my pocket...not in my shoe...not in my moustache..."

Jack sighed again and said, "Later Doug."

He left the Inn while Doug wondered to himself, "It's not in the attic...it's not in the oven...wait, do I even have a notebook? What was it I was going to write down? Oh yes, something about getting a tan."

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Jack walked along the seafront on his way back to the farm. He was just thinking about his plans for that evening when a loud, girly voice penetrated the warm silence of the town square.

"Hey Jack!"

Popuri in all her pinkness and smell of chickens came bounding along the square and into his arms. Hugging him tightly, she screamed, "How's my favourite farmer from Mineral Town today?"

"Popuri," said Jack in as nice a tone as he could muster, "I'm the _only_ farmer in Mineral Town."

"Oh," she said, with a tiny hint of deflation before resuming her bounciness, "Well, what are you going to do later tonight?"

"I thought I'd go and see _Kids Around an Open Fire_," replied Jack, "It's a movie about kids in the wild who have to adapt awesome fighting techniques to survive. It's on at Golden City now, just across the sea."

"No it isn't," said Popuri.

"And why not?" asked Jack, a little irritated.

"Because Golden City isn't there anymore!" exclaimed Popuri, "It got zapped by a nuke! Isn't that soooo _cool?_"

"Yes... I suppose so..." sighed Jack, remembering the bitter truth.

Sometimes he wondered why he'd bothered to come and farm the land of his late grandfather. As he got lost in thought, he recalled the first day he'd ever come to this god-forsaken island...

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_24th June 1994_

"Get out of Vietnam!" shouted a villager through a megaphone, standing on an upturned soap box outside the Mayor's House.

"GET OUT OF VIETNAM!" chorused the gathered protestors.

Six-year old Jack Breezy groaned as he walked with his grandfather past this embarrassing debacle. This _stupid_ island was at least twenty-five years behind everyone else.

At this point, the Mayor came out of his house and shouted at the protestors, "Don't talk to me about it! Go to the American embassy in Golden City and protest there!"

"We did and they denied that there was any war," explained the chief protestor.

"You stupid people!" screamed Jack as he walked past, "There is no war in Vietnam!"

"Jack!" warned his grandfather sternly, "Don't talk about things you understand. Now come on, let's get to the farm. I'm very busy today."

"Oh yes," said Jack with mock admiration, "How is the old dirt farm? Still being paid to grow nothing by the government? How strenuous that must be!"

"It sure is," replied Grandfather Breezy, the sarcasm going completely over his head, "It's hard hitting that weathervane with a shotgun pellet from the comfort of my own porch. And there also be them cows and sheep and what have you. I forget to feed them sometimes, but I have my magic elves come and feed them for me! Now how about that?"

"Oh god..." muttered Jack, "The old man's been at the "groovy grass" again."

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"So boy, you aim slightly to the left of the weathervane and FIRE!"

BANG! whee-whee-whee

"GOT IT!"

"Gramps," sighed Jack, "We've been doing this for four hours. When can we do something _interesting_?"

"So boy, you aim slightly to the left of the weathervane..."

"That's it," said Jack, getting off the small rocking chair that matched Grandfather Breezy's bigger one and walking away, "I'm outta here."

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Jack was lost.

But he would _never _admit that. He would say that he was temporarily misplaced. Jack Breezy did not get lost.

But he was beginning to admit that he wasn't where he meant to be.

As he pondered his predicament, he heard singing. Not particularly good singing, not first-rate singing, but a damn sight better than Grandpa Breezy's rendition of "The Ol' Mountain Path is Paved with Crap."

This was a girl singing.

Jack followed the singing until he turned a corner on the mountain path and came into view of a lake. Next to an old oak tree, there was a pink-haired girl with flowers in her hair. She was skipping around the tree and singing.

Jack walked towards her. He was interested in whether this girl would be the one to aid him in his quest.

The girl saw him and stopped singing. After a momentary pause, she skipped across to him and said, "Heeeey! I'm Popuri! What's your name?"

"I am Jack Breezy," intoned the six year-old in a voice of icy genius, "I am the epitome of brilliance, comparable to Julius Caesar and Genghis Khan; someone worthy to rule the world. And I _will_."

Perhaps this girl could be his soul mate. Someone who would share his ambitions, someone who would be able to help him subjugate this cursed world and its _stupid_ inhabitants. Someone whose intelligence and cunning would help him dominate the planet.

Another pause.

"That is _sooooooo _coolio!"

Then again, possibly not.

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Jack remembered that day well. He saw it clearly as the nose in front of his face. Unfortunately he didn't see the signpost as well and walked straight into it.

"Hahahaha," giggled Popuri annoyingly, "You've gotta watch out Jack!"

"Thanks for the advice," growled Jack, picking himself up from the ground.

They walked together up to the Poultry Farm, where the sound of squawking from old chickens having their heads cut off by Rick could be clearly heard. When they got to the door, Popuri turned and said brightly, "We're having dinner tonight. Do you want to come?"

"I'd love to," replied Jack, smiling, "but last time, I believe you made the soup and I was hospitalized with Legionnaires' disease for a month."

"You looked really funny when you had it!" giggled Popuri.

Jack gave up. He turned and walked away saying, "Thanks, but no thanks Popuri. See you tomorrow."

As he walked back to his farm, Jack sighed. No movie! How come Charlton Heston had managed it in _The Omega Man_ then? It wasn't fair! Jack fumed silently. He wouldn't be able to go see his favourite movie; sod the billions who had died!

Jack realised that his hometown must have been destroyed as well and sorrowed as he realised he would never see his parents again. He had never managed to convince the pair to write him into their will and now he never would.

As he was cursing his ill fate, he met the Mayor coming the other way.

"Ah Jack!" exclaimed the Mayor, "Come with me, I need to talk to you about something..."

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The serene peace of the village was broken by a loud scream from the Mayor's House, "WHAAAAAAAAAAAT!?"

"I said," repeated the Mayor calmly, "that I'm reducing the salary for your work by 100G."

"And why, you stupid, ugly, horrible man?" growled Jack, standing over the little man like a behemoth.

"Because I feel you haven't been putting in enough effort," replied the Mayor unfazed by Jack's wrath, "I mean you're not even growing anything at the moment."

"I resent that!" retorted Jack, "Why I'm having a new crop planted right not!"

"Ah, good!" replied the Mayor, "As long as it isn't parsnip. Everyone here hates parsnips!"

"Ah…well…" began Jack awkwardly, "Er, how about spinsrap? We've got loads of that!"

"Spinsrap is parsnips spelled backwards, Jack," replied the Mayor, "You have got parsnips, haven't you.

"Yes."

"Sorry."

"Do you realise what this reduction will do to me?" shouted Jack, slamming his fist on the table, the force of which caused the bag of gold to fall out of a hole in his trousers and spill everywhere. There was an embarrassed silence for a moment, and then Jack crouched down to pick up all the gold, saying sheepishly, "Well, as you can see, my trousers are so old and worn that my loose change fell out. I wouldn't have this problem if I wasn't so _poor!_"

"That looked like 10,000G worth of gold," replied Mayor Thomas, "You'll survive, so the cut still stands. I'm sorry Jack."

"Shove off," muttered Jack as he left the house.

Once he was outside, he began cursing and shouting angrily, "That villain dares toy with the great Jack Breezy? I shall show him the true meaning of fear. I shall take my sweet revenge on him, a dish in this case best served hot! I shall return!"

He promptly fell into an open sewer, a direct result of not looking where he was going.

"Oh...oh god..." he moaned in horror, "I've fallen into the sewer... and just after that cholera epidemic..."

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Well, there you go. Any more reviews or constructive criticism would be _greatly_ appreciated. Thank you.


	3. The Assassin

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Except perhaps the story and the title "Crusaders Gone Wild".

Chapter 3: The Assassin.

Jack contemplated ways of getting his revenge on the Mayor. There were many good ones, but none of them seemed to be _perfect._ He could set up the Mayor with one of the five eligible young ladies in town and then jump out of the bedroom wardrobe to take a picture of him in a compromising position. No... not even Popuri, the least intelligent of the girls, was stupid enough to go to bed with the Mayor.

He could egg the Mayor's house, which was a tried and tested method. No, not sophisticated enough for a man of Jack's refinement.

The list went on and on and none of them tickled Jack's fancy. He sighed and asked his companions, who he had invited for a meeting, "So, any ideas?"

"Jack," began Popuri, playing with her hair, "Why do we want revenge on the Mayor anyway? It's only 100G."

"First it'll be 100G," replied Jack aggressively, "then it'll be 1000G, then 10,000G and then God knows where! I'm barely keeping afloat on what I get already! If he cuts my pay again, I won't be able to buy that solid gold toilet! Then he'll turn on the Poultry Farm next and squeeze every penny out of it as well! Do you want that?"

"Not really," replied Popuri, "but can't you..."

"No!" snapped Jack.

"I have an idea," said Cliff, "Why don't you get the Mayor removed from office some way?"

Jack snapped his fingers in delight. Cliff's idea was brilliant!

"You mean injure him so he'll have to retire?" he asked.

"No," replied Cliff, "I mean a modern, democratic, fair way."

"Ah," said Jack, nodding, "You mean kill him?"

"No, that's not democratic or fair!" protested Cliff.

"We did it in my city all the time," replied Jack, "That's how a Mayor left office. We once got through six in one day and my uncle had killed four of them." He sighed nostalgically, "Good times. Let's do it!"

"How are we going to do it?" asked Popuri, tossing her hair.

"Well, we'll need an assassin first," answered Jack. Getting up he added, "And I know where to find one. Let's go guys."

"But, but, but," stuttered Cliff.

The room was dark, lit only by the TV. The sounds of moaning, clanging of swords and the occasional slurping could be heard from the speakers. A small figure was on the bed, obscured by the darkness which hung in the room. Suddenly, a door opened, unleashing a band of light into the room of darkness.

"Hello dear," said the old man brightly, "Want a hot water bott- what are you watching?"

"I am watching some of the finest pornography in the world," replied the figure coldly, "Produced by myself naturally. I hired the best actors, the finest director and booked some of the most exotic locations in the world. That is the _real_ Dome of the Rock, _not _a studio."

"But what is it?" asked the old man, his memory a cesspool of forgetfulness.

The figure sighed and replied, _"Crusaders Gone Wild_; one of a series of porn movies under the title _Sex Throughout History._ Twelve million copies have been sold and I am the genius behind it all. And don't forget the arms factories, the jewellers and the gold mining corporation. I own them all. I was in _Forbes 400_ damn it and you were too stupid to realise."

"Oh," said the old man, unfazed, "I have visitors to see you. They say they want a hired killer and asked for you specifically, don't know why."

"Send them in," ordered the figure.

"Okay," said the elderly gentleman. He turned and began to walk away, but stopped, turned again and asked, "Oh and do you want your nightlight on?"

"No."

"Alright."

A few moments later, Jack, Popuri and Cliff were shown in. The figure turned the TV off and said bluntly, "Good evening Mr. Breezy."

"Hello," replied Jack, a little nervous, which surprised him, "I need your help."

"Yes?"

"We want to overthrow the Mayor and we need him dead. Can you deal with him for us?"

"What's in it for me?"

"Well, we'll let you decide when we take power. Are you in?"

The figure turned the bedside lamp on and smiled evilly at her guests.

"Yes I am," said May.


	4. Raising an Army

Author's Notes: All the previous chapters have been changed dramatically, so I guess this has loads of new stuff in it.

StarrNight: Yeah, Jack is less of a psycho now and (slightly) more normal. The language has been toned down as well in order to make Jack more sympathetic and to generally clean up the whole piece.

Thanks to everyone else who has reviewed it as well!

Chapter 4: Raising an Army

May led them down the steps and opened the bomb-proof door. Inside the fortified bunker under the Yodel Farm was an area the size of a warehouse, filled with everything you could ever need to survive a nuclear holocaust and start another one. Apart from the vast stockpiles of non-perishable foodstuffs were several crates stamped with the message, "TO MAY, LOTS OF LOVE, THE REPUBLICAN GUARD, IRAQ."

Jack, Cliff and Popuri were gazing in awe at it. May felt some explanation was needed and offered, "Well, you ever wonder where the WMDs went? Here, baby!"

They wandered through the vast cavern of boxes, May leading the way. Suddenly, they heard laughter coming from behind one of the crates and it echoed throughout the huge hall.

"Oh God," muttered May. She rounded the next corner into a hidden inlet surrounded by crates, followed by her guests. In the nook was a sofa, a fridge and a TV, which was currently being watched by a turbaned man with a black beard. He was eating a watermelon.

"W-what are you doing here!?" spluttered May, "I thought I told you to move out a month ago! You haven't been paying your rent!"

"Have too," replied the figure, spitting watermelon everywhere as he spoke, "The cache of AK-47s is at the door."

While May went off to check, grumbling all the while, Jack walked up to the seated man and said, "Hey, aren't you Os-"

"You say my name kid and I will have to kill you," replied the bearded chap immediately and without looking at him.

"Okay," replied Jack, confused, "Uh, can I call you Ozzie?"

"Sure thing kid," replied Ozzie, biting a huge chunk out of the juicy melon. At that point, May came back in and addressed Ozzie.

"Alright, you can stay, but no more parties!" snapped May, "I don't want any more of your friends from Al-whatever they're called coming round and leaving vials of anthrax all over the farm. Granddad keeps getting infected and I don't want to have to care for the stupid old coot!"

"Shhh," said the man, "Friends is on and this is a Ross episode. Don't wanna miss it."

"Christ," muttered May, stomping out, followed by the bemused trio. Before they went, Cliff turned back and said, "Bye Ozzie!"

"Later dude," was the reply. Ozzie laughed and pointed at the screen, saying, "Take that Chandler!"

They walked further into the silo for about five minutes, May muttering under her breath angrily. Finally, they reached an open area with a line of multi-locked doors in the far wall. On one side, a tiny rack of keys was visible. May walked over to it, tailed by her clients. As she reached it, she turned and asked coldly, "So, how would you like to get rid of Mayor Thomas?"

"Jack," said Popuri, butting in before he could respond, "You're just going to kill the Mayor, right?"

"Well," began Jack, "The Mayor does have a lot of support. It might be necessary to-"

"Pleeeease?" pleaded Popuri, her eyes beginning to brim over, "I don't wanna see anyone get hurt..."

Jack's heart softened. Sighing, he said, "Okay Popuri, I won't have anyone else killed."

Popuri smiled and hugged him, causing Jack to stiffen immediately, "I want to go home now," she said.

"Cliff, take her home," Jack ordered. Cliff assented and took Popuri out. Jack called after her, "I promise no-one else will be hurt." They disappeared from sight.

A brief pause hung in the air before he said to May, "Actually, I intend for there to be much slaughter. Lots of it."

"I'll get the red-hot machetes with rusty barbed wire wrapped around the blades."

"Excellent."

Jack and Cliff walked nervously up to the hut behind the church. They had heard rumours that such creatures existed, but had never seen them with their own eyes. May had said that they needed an army to overthrow the Mayor and that these mysterious beings could provide the core of such a force. They wondered what powers such creatures would have to warrant soldiery. Perhaps they were warriors of great strength and skill? Perhaps they were sorcerers with mystical powers lost since ancient times who could weave the threads of fate to create the cloth of destiny.

Jack, sweating in awe of the power he was about to witness, knocked slowly at the door. A moment of eternity seemed to pass like a dream. The door opened and...

"Hello BUDUM! Have you come for TEA BUDUM!?"

"AAARGH!"

"Oh dear, you've fainted budum."

Then again, perhaps they were just annoying little elves with a tea fixation.

After this bad first impression and the subsequent revival of both Jack and Cliff, relations warmed considerably.

"You pointy-eared bastard!" snapped Jack, "What the hell did you have to do that for?"

"Sorry budum," replied the elf with the red hat, "We're just so friendly budum!"

"Christ."

"Settle down Jack," said Cliff soothingly, "I sort of like these little critters."

"Well you would, wouldn't you?" retorted Jack, still angry, "You have so much in common, such as your minute brains and small genitalia!"

"Anyway," said the red elf, "How can we help you budum?"

"First," said Jack, "stop saying budum."

"Okay budum!" replied the elf cheerily.

"God..." muttered Jack, before continuing with, "We need your help for a plan of ours. How do you fancy killing the Mayor?"

"No way budum!" replied the elf in horror and revulsion, "We are peaceful and law-abiding people."

The smile on Jack's face did not disappear, but the temperature in the hut dropped sharply. Through gritted teeth, Jack said, "So that's how you feel." He nodded to Cliff, who went outside. Then he said to the elf, "Just a minute. We have a present for you." He excused himself and went outside to join Cliff, who was hauling several bags of flour. Flour was like catnip to the elves. Give the elves flour and they were yours to command. They would be willing to die for those delightful bags of goodness.

"Okay," whispered Jack, "You know what the plan is, right?"

"Yes sir," replied Cliff.

Hauling in the bags of flour, Jack said, "Well, I have a proposition for you Mr…. Chef, was it?"

"Is that…flour?" asked Chef, salivating with delight.

"It sure is!" replied Jack, evilly grinning, "Eat skull-crushing goodness, you midget!" He picked up the bag and swung it round. It connected with Chef's head with a sickening CRACK and the elf collapsed.

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"Uuugh," moaned Chef, "Where am I, budum?"

The darkness suddenly lifted and Chef found himself in a little room with his brothers. They were all tied to chairs and facing a screen. To one side stood Jack, smoking a cigarette.

"Ah, good evening gentlemen!" he said warmly as he dropped the cigarette and crushed it under his booted foot, "You are in my evil lair!" He cackled evilly, before adding in a normal voice, "Well, I say it's mine; actually it's been rented to me for three years. Actually, it's not really evil, more sort of moderately bad. Actually it's not a lair; it's just where my old granddad kept his collection of porn. Anyway, I am about to enlighten you as to the reasons why you are here."

"Ugh," mumbled Aqua, "Who am I?"

"You are all rich drug barons who run a vast cocaine empire from the jungles of central Columbia!" answered Jack, "and I am about to show you the man who will bring it crashing down! Roll the movie Cliff!"

The lights dimmed and a movie began on the white screen. It was titled "_Movie aginst Mayar Tomhas!!!!"_

"Popuri wrote the title," muttered Cliff to Jack.

Onscreen was an exact duplicate of the Mayor, provided that the Mayor had pink hair, wore a dress and had an obviously fake moustache tacked onto his face.

"Hahaha," giggled the Mayor, "I am evil Mayor Thomas and I am going to destroy the Harvest Elves, uh, the drug barons of Columbia's entire stockpile of cocaine."

The fair Mayor picked up a bag which had first been labelled FLOUR, but had been quickly crossed out and replaced with COCAINE just underneath. The Mayor lit a match and dropped it into the bag before placing it on the wooden sideboard and continuing with the speech.

"I am very evil and very bad," he said girlishly, "and I should be overthrown and replaced with the brilliant and handsome Jack Breezy – does it say that in the script? Yes? Good – and I should be got rid of immediately. Uh, is the sideboard meant to be on fire?"

"Oh crap no," shouted May, who rushed onto the stage and tried to beat it out with a towel which itself caught fire. She flung it off-screen, which caused a voice, which sounded like Cliff's, to scream loudly. Meanwhile, half the room was now on fire.

"Call 911!" yelled May.

"They're all dead," replied Popuri, who had pulled off her fake moustache.

"Well get the fire extinguisher! What do you mean Grandpa's using it as a seltzer!? Oh you stupid, senile old f-"

Thankfully the movie ended with the words "_Thee Beggining_ (hastily crossed out and replaced with) _Endde!_"

"Well!" exclaimed Jack, clapping his hands and returning to the front of the stage, "I found that convincing, didn't you?"

There was silence.

"I'll give you guns!" offered Jack desperately.

"Yeah! We're in!" hollered all the elves.

"Excellent!" replied Jack, rubbing his hands together, "I'll send General May in at once! Come, Cliff!"

He marched proudly down the aisle, accompanied by his faithful servant. Jack Breezy considered himself a messiah, a man who would fight for righteousness and honour, and not expect rewards.

As soon as the door slammed behind them, he began chanting childishly, "I'm going to be the Mayor! I'm going to be the Mayor!"

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Well, like I said earlier, this has been through a MAJOR revamp, so please tell me if my hours of editing were worth it. If it isn't, I may just snap. Review please!


	5. Operation Chest Hair

Me!: Thank you very much for reviewing. Gray will be appearing in the future, but his exact role is yet to be determined.

1HM 3Angel: Thanks for reviewing and I'm flattered you really like it, but I was confused by something. Does Popuri really come across to you as white trash (which wasn't my intention)? Also, I don't think I've misspelled anything; could you please point out my mistakes? Thanks again!

Avalice: I hope I've satisfied your hope with this new chapter. I'm glad the combination of characters works out for you and I hope you continue to enjoy my offerings of comedy! And no problems for the late review, late is better than none at all!

Chapter 5: Operation Chest Hair

"Ten-hut!" screamed General May, complete with military hat, trench coat, sunglasses and corncob pipe. The army saluted in perfect synchronism.

It had been one week since the Harvest Elves had agreed to join the fight against Mayor Thomas and May, appointed a general by Jack, had been whipping them into shape after seeing a movie about it on TV. That was _experience_!

"Ah, bravo General," said Jack, smiling as he walked down the line of reasonably disciplined elf soldiers, followed closely by Cliff, "I see we have quite an army here."

He came to the first soldier in the line and asked, "What's your name son?"

"Nappy, sir," was the reply.

"Ah," said Jack, a little confused, "I suppose you're named that because you sleep a lot?"

"No sir," Nappy replied, "It's because I'm incontinent and need-"

"_Thank you soldier, that will do!_" yelled Jack loudly, before moving on to the next soldier.

"Name?" he asked.

"Chef, sir," replied the red elf.

"Ah, you are a cook?"

"Yes sir," was the cheerful reply, "I made something for you sir." He held up a saucepan with something in. Jack peered at it. It was green, slimy and burnt.

"What is it?" asked Jack in secret horror.

"It's a fried egg sir. Of course, I did cough on it a couple of times," replied Chef as he sniffed loudly, "Would you like some now sir?"

"Maybe later," answered Jack. He and Cliff walked on to the next soldier.

"Name?"

"_TIMID, SIR!!!"_ roared the soldier.

"Oh," replied Jack, taken aback, "Well done. Any questions?"

"_YEAH!_" Timid screamed, "_WHEN DO WE GET THE FREAKING GUNS?"_

"Er, soon," answered Jack, "Moving on…"

He wisely decided to skip the other soldiers and walked to the end of the line.

"Well gentlemen," he began, "and lady of course; we begin tonight. Do not open fire unless I give the secret code to. We must make this as stealthy as possible in order to succeed."

"What's the code?" asked May.

"The code for opening fire will be _Kids Around An Open Fire_, my favourite movie," answered Jack promptly, "and the code for using Cliff as a human shield will be _So Long Sucker!_"

"Ah, thank you very much sir!" said Cliff happily.

"No problem Cliff," replied Jack, patting his friend on the shoulder, "All part of Operation Chest Hair!"

There was a stunned silence, eventually broken by Ozzie.

"Operation…Chest…Hair, sir?" he ventured, confused.

"Precisely," replied Jack, "Now, everyone meet back here at six o'clock tonight and be ready. Dismissed!"

As the troops dispersed, Cliff muttered to Jack, "Operation Chest Hair?"

Jack replied, "Well it sounded better than your Operation Full Bladder…"

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At six o'clock, the army had reassembled outside Jack's house, prepared to launch the glorious revolution.

"Welcome consumer," May read as she looked through the instruction manual, "Thank you for purchasing the _Build Your Own Portable Gallows Set_, which is perfect for angry mobs and irked army generals. Over 10,000 lynch mobs served since 1945!"

At that point Jack came out. The army cheered and some drunkenly burped to welcome his arrival.

"Let's go gang," he whispered, "and remember, be quiet. This shall be a stealthy operation."

"_YEAH!_" roared the crowd before drunkenly spraying each other with spittle as they said, "Shhh!" to each other.

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The doorbell rang.

"Oh Rick?" asked Lillia, the mother of both Rick and Popuri, who was just making dinner, "Can you get that please?"

"Why not?" sighed Rick as he shuffled over to the door, "It's not like I'm important enough to do anything else."

He opened the door and saw Jack standing there sheepishly.

"Oh hello Jack," muttered Rick, "I suppose you want Popuri. I mean, it's not like anyone wants to talk to me…" He wandered off to alert his younger sister.

"Ah, excellent," said Jack, rubbing his hands happily. He turned around, "Soon we will…_Cliff, what in God's name are you doing!? Don't set fire to that chicken coop! This isn't the Mayor's house damn it!_"

"What's up?" asked Popuri, coming to the door.

"Oh nothing much," replied Jack, giving a big, happy grin.

"_Jack!_" came a scream from behind him, "_It's out of control!_"

"What's that?" asked Popuri, trying to get past Jack to see what was happening. Jack blocked her.

"Oh nothing," he replied, "Say, in a few minutes, do you want to come with us on our revolution?"

"Sorry," she replied, tossing her hair, "Mom wants me to stay in and do some housework."

"Oh, okay," replied Jack. _Probably for the better. She won't get in the way._

"See you tomorrow," said the bubbly girl as she closed the door. Jack turned and ran towards the coop, which was now thankfully flame-free.

"What were you doing that for!?" yelled Jack at the rather scorched Cliff. As the burnt sidekick opened his mouth to reply, Jack waved his hand in dismissal and said, "No, it doesn't matter. Popuri isn't coming with us, so I guess that rules out those inventive poultry grenades that Ozzie suggested…_Ozzie! Put that chicken down and pull that dynamite out of its ass!_"

"So, what do we do now?" asked May, her general's hat falling over her eyes.

"We go on regardless!" exclaimed Jack. Pulling out a walking stick, which was not quite as heroic as pulling out a shining sword of freedom, he shouted, "To victory! Charge!"

Cheering and whooping, the small army charged towards their destination, to finally bring freedom and tyranny to the masses!

Then silence. Walking in a quite embarrassed way, they slowly returned to where they had started.

"Sorry," said Jack sheepishly, "_This_ way!"

Cheering and whooping, the small army _now_ charged towards their destination, to finally bring freedom and tyranny to the masses!

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"So, what was all that about?" asked Lillia as she put the roast chicken on the table.

"You do know that the cooker is a fire hazard?" interrupted Rick, "But I suppose it doesn't matter; no-one would miss us if we burned to death."

"Oh, Jack was just going to invite me out to join him in overthrowing the Mayor," replied Popuri, completely ignoring her despondent brother, "with Cliff, May and the Harvest Elves."

"It's so good that you youngsters are still playing games," smiled her mother, "Back in my day, we'd all be married by your age. But now kids are still playing carefree, harmless games!"

"_Death to the opposition!_" roared the faint mob outside, "_Skin their grandmothers and disembowel their children!_"

"Ah, to be young!" sighed Lillia, shaking her head.

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As the freedom fighters rushed along the path through the town, they thought of the rewards that awaited them; power, money, infinite resources and most importantly for the majority of the band, flour!

However, their dreams of glory were temporarily stunted by the sight of a grey-haired weirdo on the road ahead. He was standing in their way and seemed determined to stop them from advancing any further.

After a moment of peering, Jack snorted and told his comrades soothingly, "Eh, don't worry. It's only that guy Kano who never appears at festivals."

"Jack," growled the photographer, "I know what you're going to do and I demand that you turn around and go home immediately!"

"Or what?" retorted Jack, "You'll blind us with your fearsome camera flash?"

"Precisely," grinned Kano, pulling out his camera.

"Aw hell…"

The flashes were staggering. The rapid bombardment of light combined with the nail-scraping sound of elves screaming terrified Jack and he staggered backwards with the rest of his cohorts to seek refuge behind a large rock.

As the flashes scorched the air around them, Jack asked, "Alright, how does he know about our plan?"

Cliff blushed and tried to sink into his clothing.

"Cliff," sighed Jack, "You gave it away didn't you?"

"No."

"Yes you did."

"….Yes."

"Why?"

"I thought Ann might be impressed by me being a _soldier_!"

"For God's sake Cliff!" exclaimed a frustrated Jack, "You are not friggin' G.I Joe! You are Cliff Cluzzlewick; expert vagrant and graduate from the University of Eternal Stupidity. Ah," noted the farmer as the flashes stopped, "He must have run out of film. Cliff, get out there and fight him!"

"Me!?" exclaimed Cliff, "But I don't know how to fight!"

"We covered that in the film "How to Kill Your Enemy"!" snapped Jack.

"We didn't see that film."

"Well you should have paid more attention while it was on!" yelled Jack, not listening, "Now get out there and kick his ass! Remember, don't kill him! Killing is immoral and besides, the villagers are getting suspicious about why the river is clogging up!"

With no other options available, Cliff gulped and stood up. Walking forwards slowly towards his adversary, he stuttered, "O-o-okay mister, the g-g-g-game is up."

Suddenly, a blade gleamed and Kano sliced off Cliff's right arm at the elbow, eliciting a very loud scream from the victim.

"_Jesus Christ!_" yelled Jack in surprise and horror, before composing himself and shouting encouragingly to Cliff, "Go on Cliff! He's obviously losing now! Use your arm as a club damn it!"

But it was too late. Kano kicked Cliff into the bushes by the side of the road, disabling his opponent. He turned to face his next challenger.

"Okay guys," whispered Jack, "Here's our backup plan. You all charge as part of a suicide attack, while I pack my bags and go to live as a yak in Tibet."

As he started to go, May grabbed his shoulder and said, "Don't go Jack. I have a better plan." Turning to Ozzie, she said, "Get your guys over here pronto."

Ozzie nodded and spoke some Arabic into a walkie-talkie before explaining to Jack, "Don't worry Mr. Jack. My boys will be here in how you say… a jiffy?"

"A jiffy?" asked Jack.

"Four days at least," replied Ozzie.

"Well that's great, isn't it?" said Jack angrily, "Meanwhile, we simply wait here and be cut to pieces. Right, it's time to open fire. Men, Kids Around an Open-"

"Wait!" exclaimed May, "Give me a chance."

Pulling out a short knife and placing it between her teeth, she leapt over the rock and bounded towards Kano, growling, "Go ahead punk, make my day!"

After circling each other for a few seconds, Kano tried to strike May with his sword, but the little girl pulled the knife out of her mouth and deflected the blow. She then deftly kicked the sword away and head butted him in the stomach, downing him and ending the fight.

The previously terrified rebels jumped out from their hiding place and ran up to the subdued photographer. May was jumping up and down on him in a bizarre victory dance.

"Well done May," praised Jack, "That was just like a scene from _Kids Around an Open Fire_-"

"_HE GAVE THE CODE_!" roared Timid, "_OPEN FIRE_!"

_BLAM-BLAM-BLAM-BLAAAAAM_!

"…Shit," said Jack after the sound subsided, "Ozzie, take the corpse to the river. There's some body-dumping to be done."

"Right ho boss," said Ozzie, picking up the bullet-riddled corpse and trudging away into the darkness. Jack gathered his cohorts into a circle and whispered his plans to them.

"_Right, Nappy, you take a squadron to secure all the important buildings…post office, town hall, church, bakery…hmm, I have a craving for some Twinkies…Cliff, will you stop whimpering, it's only a scratch! May, Aqua, Chef, you'll accompany me to the Mayor's house…and the rest of you can pillage a little if you like, but no fires this time! Right, let's go…_"

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Mayor Thomas had enjoyed his evening. He would have enjoyed it even more if he hadn't had a post-box flung through his window, causing a tremendous crashing sound. He was equally surprised when Jack jumped through the hole, checked to see if the front door was locked, and then jumped out again. The next few seconds were uneventful until the farmer kicked down the door and shouted, "Don't try to run Thomas!"

"I'm not going to, Jack…"

"Quiet!" yelled the revolutionary, followed by his two flour-crazed elf guards, May, who was dressed in a trench coat that nearly drowned her, and Cliff, who was steadily losing blood and whining quietly in the background.

"Er, alright," conceded the Mayor. He took his hat off and said apologetically, "Look Jack, about our earlier conversation, I just want to say I'm sorry. You were right."

"Don't try to trick me with your capitalistic propaganda," snapped Jack, advancing towards him, "You of all people should know that I was in the right!"

"That's what I said!"

"Silence! Your protests will get you nowhere!"

"Anyway Jack," continued the Mayor, uncertainly trying to salvage a conversation with an obviously insane farmer, "I have decided to retire from the mayoralty and hand it over to you."

"Don't think you'll slip away with your titles and your power still intact!" roared Jack, "Your reign of terror is over Mayor. Perhaps you would have resigned if you believed yourself to be in the wrong, but that was clearly too much to hope for."

"But-"

"Take him away!" commanded Jack, waving his hand dismissively, "Imprison him in the dungeon, where he may rot and wither away; wishing each moment for death!"

"We don't have a dungeon," reminded May.

"Oh, right," replied Jack uncertainly, before regaining confidence, "Well then take him to my garden shed, where he may have a reasonably uncomfortable time; wishing every now and then that he could possibly be somewhere a bit nicer!" He cackled evilly, before choking and coughing on a sweet he had been sucking.

After the now ex-Mayor had been escorted away by the short sentries, Jack took a moment to bask in the glow of victory, which was spoiled somewhat by Cliff's moaning.

"Oh, alright then Cliff," relented Jack, "We'll go and get your little injury seen to."

"But it's 11pm," pointed out May, "Won't he be in bed now?"

"No-one sleeps on the job when Mayor Jack Breezy is around," retorted Jack with a dark smile.

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"I was a bit annoyed when you woke me up," said the Doctor, as he welded the artery on Cliff's severed arm back to his attached upper arm, "But when I saw the scale of the injury, I knew I had to act."

"Because of your Hypocrisy Oath," suggested Jack, eager to sound knowledgeable in his new role as overlord.

"Yes, something like that," replied the Doctor, raising his eyebrows. He nodded to the window, "What's going on out there? Why are there flames rising in the distance and screaming?"

"Oh, just some random pillaging and looting by my men that I have absolutely no idea about," answered Jack quickly.

"Right," muttered the Doctor, not listening, "How did you get this severe injury?" he asked Cliff.

Cliff looked up nervously to Jack who gave a sign that said, tell him about our coup, and I'll kill you.

"Er, paper cut," he answered quickly.

"Paper cut?" replied the Doctor, raising his eyebrow.

"Well, it was a very large sheet of paper," interjected Jack hesitantly, "Deadly, you know?"

"Well," pronounced the Doctor as he finished stitching the arm back on, "Good as new. Just rest it for a few days and be careful to stay away from any…large sheets of paper."

"Excellent," said Jack, getting his coat, "Come on Cliff, let's go!"

As the two youngsters left the hospital, Jack said, "We announce our victory to the town tomorrow. There'll be a big reward in it for you Cliff. I might promote you from dung cleaner to cow vomit disposer."

"Oh," replied Cliff, deflated, "Thank you very much Jack."

"No problemo."

As the screams and sounds of smashing glass grew louder deep in Mineral Town and the sounds of Harvest Elves oppressing and abusing the innocent became more potent, Jack lit a cigar and sighed.

"That, my friend, is the sound of freedom."


	6. New Regime

kelley28: Thanks very much!

Aki-No-Good: I hope you enjoy this chapter even more!

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Chapter Six: New Regime

At the first meeting of the new government the following morning, there was some animated discussion about who should take which job.

"_You stupid old moron_!" screamed May, throwing a penknife at Jack, who quickly dived beneath the chair. The weapon jammed itself three inches into a portrait of George Washington.

"W-well, May," protested Jack, rising very slightly up to reiterate his point, "I don't think it's advisable to put you in charge of the armed forces just yet. You've got to admit, you have a teeny bit of an anger problem."

"_ANGER PROBLEM!?_" roared the eight-year-old, jumping up onto the table and screaming at her boss, "_I DO NOT HAVE A GODDAMN ANGER PROBLEM_!"

Cliff whimpered silently in his seat at the opposite end of the table, fearing for his own safety. His fight with Kano the previous night was still fresh in his mind and he did not want to get cut up again. He squealed and jumped out of his seat when a large, wet object inserted itself into his ear.

"M-May," stuttered Jack, hiding under his chair, "Even if I w-wanted to give you command of the army-"

"_What do you mean IF!?_" yelled May.

"I-I mean," continued Jack, "I _do_ want to give you command of the army, it's just that we don't really have a suitable one ready yet."

Ozzie was not particularly perturbed by an eight-year-old having a homicidal outburst, but he did flinch slightly when something began chewing on his turban.

"And another thing!" added May, calming down slightly, "What's with all these bloody camels in here?"

"Cavalry," replied Jack promptly, getting back into his seat. A nearby camel farted loudly.

"Cavalry!?" repeated May, shocked, "Where are horses!?"

"Camels are just like horses," interjected Ozzie, pulling his shredded turban out of the hungry camel's mouth, "Apart from the fact that they spit, leave their, er, refuse everywhere, are bad-tempered and bite people savagely."

"The Mayor was breeding them," added Jack, "So we took advantage of that. I thought you'd like such nasty creatures."

"Yeah May," teased Cliff foolishly, "No need to get the _hump_." He quickly ducked as a meat clever smashed through his chair and embedded itself in the wall. The camel leaned down and began licking his face again.

"Okay, okay," sighed Jack, getting up, "I'll make you Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces of the Great and Glorious People's Republic of Mineral Island."

"Navy too," replied the new commander ungratefully.

"May!" exclaimed Jack in frustration, "We don't _have _a navy!"

He jumped for dear life as a machete aimed for his crotch sailed underneath and slammed into the wall, cracking it.

"Find one," was the curt reply.

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"So," said Jack, "What is it that you do?"

"I grow sorghum," came the Deep South drawl of the farmer, complete with stick of wheat in his mouth.

"Well done," said Jack very patronisingly, as though talking to a three-year-old. He was trying to "connect with the people". Continuing his very slow, very loud talking, he asked, "Do you know where I can find boats, lots of them?"

"Well," ruminated the farmer, chewing on his wheat, "I think there be them swan-boat things that the young 'uns make out in. They be down by the cove."

_Swan boats?_ Jack began to remember about the famous swan boats, from all those years ago…

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_Many Years Earlier_

It was a warm summer night and the youth of the town were engaged in, er, how shall we say, biological activity in the cove of the island. In the gliding swan boats, people were merry and made love, occasionally looking up to steer the boat away from craggy rocks. This was not always successful, as the many sounds of wood splintering and the belated laughs of other teenagers, the kind of mirth that only comes from watching idiots drown.

Jack Breezy was one of these chuckling adolescents. His boat was tied up at the pier and he was lying in it with a black-haired girl who sighed happily and said, "Oh Jack, I love you. You're such a good listener and you always act as though I'm the only girl in the world."

"What?" asked Jack, looking over the water before shifting back into the boat, "Sorry, I was just checking out the ass on that girl in boat number twenty-three."

"I said," repeated the girl, before giving up and saying, "Oh well, never mind. Do you want to go and see that new picture at the movie theatre?"

"Which one?" asked Jack.

"Star Wars."

Jack laughed out loud, "Star Wars!? That's twenty years old!"

"Well, we get movies a little later than everyone else," conceded the girl.

"You get everything bloody late," muttered Jack, "Here, you still think that flares were the greatest invention of the twentieth century."

These musings were swiftly interrupted by the introduction of an angry-looking man wielding a shotgun. He shone a torch into the boat and yelled angrily, "What the hell are you doing with my daughter?"

_Whoops,_ thought Jack quickly, _Time for a backup plan._

"Oh!" he said, laughing nervously, "This is your daughter? Why, she's so ugly I thought she was a boy!"

There was an uncomfortable, embarrassed silence for a few seconds before Jack jumped out of the boat and began running down the wharf to freedom.

"I'll get you, you no-good lecher of a city boy!" yelled the man angrily.

"Oh yeah!?" retorted a distant Jack, "WELL DARTH VADER IS LUKE SKYWALKER'S FATHER! HOW DO YOU LIKE THEM APPLES!?"

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"Good times," said Jack aloud, thoughtfully, "Or rather, shit times. Yeah, definitely shit times."

"Well, thank you old man," he continued, "May your lack of intelligence be matched only by your lack of teeth. Say, by the way, would you like a job?"

"Yeah, sure would."

"How would you like to be an admiral? Do you have any naval experience?"

"Well, sir," recollected the old man, taking his cap off and scratching his bald head, "I once rode on one at a country fair with my grandpappy when I was ten."

"Good enough," replied Jack, "Report to the town hall at 6pm."

"I'll wear my least-dung-covered overalls!" exclaimed the old man excitedly, going into his house to tell everyone the good news.

Jack walked over to the cove to begin commandeering the vessels. His dream was becoming reality at long last.

God it felt good.

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"Okay then," began Jack to the long table of his cabinet, "I hereby appoint myself as Mayor of Mineral Island. Cliff will be my deputy."

"Wooo!" yelled Cliff in excitement, before being backhanded by an irate May.

"May will be Lord Chief General, Grand, Mega, Ultra, Supreme Commanding Overlord of the Armed Forces of the Entire Universe," continued Jack. He had kept extending this grandiose title due to the express wishes of May and a highly-powered submachine gun.

"Ozzie will be our Chief of Police and Random Assault Squadron, Chef will be Captain of the Elf Guard and Drug Distribution and that random old man I met will be Admiral of the Fleet."

"What's a fleet sonny?" asked the old man, scratching his head.

"Ahahahahaha," laughed Jack nervously, trying to avoid May's penetrating glare, "He's showing his naval expertise already! Why, I bet he even – aaaah!"

"Listen to me you pompous asshole!" growled May pulling Jack down to her level, "You mean I've got a seventy-five-year-old idiot working under me?" Meanwhile, the Admiral of the Fleet was about to poke a whirling fan to see what would happen.

"Um, yeah," conceded Jack, trying not to rip his own ear off by resisting, "But look at it this way. Would you want an _intelligent_ person under you? Someone who may present a threat to your benevolent tyranny over the army? Or would you prefer a harmless and ineffectual moron?"

"Hmm," considered May, "Good point. Besides, I can always kill him later when he is of no more use."

"Atta girl," replied Jack, who raised himself back up and announced, "Okay people, we have a government. But what form of government should it be?"

"Not democracy," argued Ozzie, "Because that's no fun if the people can kick you out for corruption, abuse of power, illegal activities and other little things like that."

"Good point," agreed Jack, "But what about communism, fascism, monarchy, despotism, fundamentalism, socialism, conservatism, liberalism, anarchism, aristocracy, authoritarianism, feudalism, kleptocracy, hierocracy, isocracy, isonomy, kritarchy, krytocracy, meritocracy, ochlocracy, oligarchy, plutocracy, republicanism, thalassocracy, theocracy, timocracy, totalitarianism or one of those parties that tries to legalize marijuana?

"How about all of them," suggested Cliff, "Just to be on the safe side?"

"Excellent idea!" exclaimed Jack, banging the table with his fist. There was excited agreement. As the cabinet began talking about constructing their new paradise, Aqua ran in and saluted.

"Excuse me Mayor," he announced, "But there is a man and a woman to see you."

"Send them in," ordered Jack, making that dismissive hand-signal that all great dictators do. He'd always wanted to do that.

Mary came in. The black-haired librarian cleared her throat and announced, "I'm sorry to disturb you, Mayor Jack, but Gray heard about the new government and was wondering if he could get a job?"

"Well, why didn't he ask?" asked Jack.

"He's a bit quiet," admitted Mary, "so I thought I'd ask for him. He's a bit shy."

At that point, Gray came in; or rather, the door seemed to explode into wooden shards and Gray ran through, bellowing, "WHAT'S UP, MAYOR JACK!?"

Jack was taken aback by this greeting, but composed himself and replied uncertainly, "Er, I'm fine thank you Gray."

"GOOD!" roared the blacksmith apprentice, stomping up to the new Mayor, "SAY, WOULD YOU LIKE A BODYGUARD WHO CAN DEAL WITH THREATS LIKE THIS GUY HERE?" He indicated Cliff, who bore a look of pure terror.

"Um," began Jack, "The thing is…"

"OKAY THEN!" Gray screamed, "TAKE THIS YOU VILLAIN!" He head butted Cliff, who collapsed in his seat. Gray finished off by yelling, "PHEW! THAT WAS LUCKY! HE COULD HAVE BEEN DANGEROUS, MAYOR JACK!"

"Thank you Gray," smiled Jack, "I can't offer you a full-time job, since you'll probably end up killing half my cabinet in your, er, enthusiasm, but whenever there's a major event on, I'll call you. You'll be paid well for your sadism, uh, I mean, protection."

"THANK YOU MAYOR JACK!" whispered Gray, in awe of his new master's approval, "I WON'T LET YOU DOWN!"

He bowed and rushed out the door. Mary blushed and said, "I think he's beginning to get over his shyness."

"Right," muttered Jack, unconvinced. As Mary curtsied and left, he announced proudly, "Tomorrow gentlemen and lady, we will proclaim our new regime to the whole world; the whole world being this island of course. Ahahahahahahahahaha! Ahahahahahahaha!"

This set off a spree of evil laughter in everyone, which was promising for a while, until the smell of camel made everyone begin to cough and splutter.

"Damn it," Jack coughed, "Where are those throat sweets?"

"I think," replied Cliff between retches, "that the camels ate them."

"Ah hell," wheezed Jack.


End file.
